Mysteries Abound

There are strange things afoot in the X Household, people.  Very strange things. 

Take for example, the Case of the Missing Library Book.  I have never lost a library book that I can recall – I may have returned some with little bite marks on their covers from a certain kitty who like to sink his fangs into paper, but I haven’t ever not returned one.  My streak may be coming to an end, as I am completely at a loss.  My last memory was finishing it in my super comfy chair in the living room and placing it on the ottoman.  It has now vanished.  Mr. X is not in the habit of touching my books so I don’t think he move it.  The cleaning ladies were here last week – maybe they moved it to a space known only to them.  I have looked everywhere I can think. Bel Canto, where are you?!

Then there is the Case of the Missing Pitcher.  It’s quite large and Mr. X has managed to hide it somewheres I can’t see.  It was in this last load in the dishwasher and Mr. X emptied the dishwasher – but now, it is nowhere to be found.  And, it’s so large, there’s not that many places he could put it.  He’s also out of town until tomorrow, so I’m out of luck until then.  Either I have a lot more hiding places in my kitchen or he is just trying to mess with my head.

There is also the Mystery of Progesterone Dosage.  Nurse to a T called this morning with the results of my endometrial biospy from the mock cycle.  This was the pretend cycle to determine how to do the for real FET cycle.  Turns out, there is a discrepancy of a day between the day of my cycle that the test results say I was at when I had the biopsy and the actual day of my cycle that I was at.  So, Dr. Uterus has ordered the slides to view for himself and then will make a determination as to how much progesterone should be used.  So, I guess the mock cycle was a good idea after all.  I hate it when he’s right – and he is just decent enough to not invoke the “I told you so”.  The good news is that we are still on for an 8/8/8 transfer.  Luckily that corresponds to the date, not the number of embryos we are putting back. 

Yet another mystery: the source of leaks in the back yard.  Areas of spongy wet grass when we haven’t had rain in a while = leak.  Damn.  Visions of backhoes and digging are already dancing in my head.

And, the last mystery for today: why Fluffy barfed up all of his dinner last night and wouldn’t come down for breakfast this morning.  That one at least has a likely answer: I put on his flea treatment Wednesday night and it’s new to them: Revolution.  He must have licked some because he managed to puke up everything in his little stomach and unlike his brother, he needs to eat all he can!  The good news is he ate some breakfast and was chirping at me when I would stop by and say hello.  We’ll see how he does for dinner (eating – not being eaten).

Any clues as to these mysteries would be greatly appreciated.

The Dog and Baby Show

I can’t remember now where I heard the adage that couples just starting out in life should start small when it come to keeping other things alive.  So, start with plants, graduate to animals and then actual live human children.  The theory is that if you can keep plants and animals alive, then you can probably do the whole baby thing. 

I used to think this was a bunch of bunk mainly because it doesn’t take into account whether or not you actually want to keep the thing alive.  I’m terrible at keeping plants alive because I consistently forget to water them, and I am not remorseful enough to make an effort to remember.  I have no problem remembering to water the kitties, however, because I have every desire to keep them alive and purring until they die a peaceful death of old age.  The saying assumes that each has the same level of respect.  I love my kitties and I tolerate my plants.

I do think, though, that whoever came up with this theory was on to something when you apply it to dogs.  In fact, I think G, our new (to us) old Golden Retriever has (temporarily) cured my Baby Lust.  I honestly had no clue how much work a dog really takes.  Walks twice a day, daily grooming, playing twice a day out in the backyard, feeding, holy crap it is unbelievable!  And there’s the worrying about training, leash pulling, eating the kitties’ food, chasing the kitties (that happened yesterday), the thunderstorm phobia.  This dog is more work in one day than the kitties are in an entire week.

It is enough to make you question whether you really want to have an infant who is likely ten times more work. Yeah, I said it.  Is that heresy?

There would be some marked differences: Mr. X would share a whole lot more of the responsibilities, and presumably we would have 9 months to get used to the idea of an infant. But still. After the honeymoon phase ends and people stop coming by to visit to see the new baby, it is you and them and that’s it.  Of course, you can take the kid everywhere. The dog, not so much.

For now, I’m going to enjoy not being obsessed with the state of my uterus (or anyone else’s for that matter) and enjoy navigating my way through new doggy-mommyhood. Woof.

image: wader